"Shukhriya," they replied, expressing their gratitude in the Urdu language.
Brannigan continued. "I've set up a CP in the first but over there. We can discuss things better inside."
Ibrahim and Hajji went to the well to wait while the other four men walked over to the impromptu command post. Inside, the little mud building was void of furniture except for a thick carpet. Neither Latrelle nor Aburrani seemed fazed by this lack of modern conveniences, and they settled down on the rug, crossing their legs.
"I don't have any refreshments," Brannigan said. "I could get some MREs, but somehow that doesn't seem appropriate."
Latrelle chuckled. "Don't bother, Lieutenant. I'm strictly a staff officer from Civil Affairs, and I came here with a full stomach after a good breakfast that followed a full night's sleep."
Brannigan had noted the lack of either a parachutist badge or combat infantryman's badge sewn above the man's left breast pocket. He knew that in the Army, that meant Latrelle would never wear general's stars on his collar or epaulets. However, later on he could well be one of those retired colonels who appeared as military pundits on TV news shows.
The SEAL looked at the Army officer. "What can we do for you, sir?"
"The first thing is a 'well done' to you and your men," Latrelle said. "When you wiped out Warlord Durtami and his band of thugs, you did a lot of people a hell of a big favor."
"We didn't exactly wipe him out," Brannigan said. "He managed to escape with his surviving people to the north."
"He will be joining his brother-in-law," Aburrani interjected. "That particular gentleman will be ten times the trouble getting rid of." He shrugged. "But, alas, we will have to deal with him. And that will be soon, I fear."
"At any rate," Latrelle said, "the rescue of these two hostages has raised morale considerably in the voter registration program."
Aburrani nodded enthusiastically. "That is most important, Lieutenant. Our people now know we will make strong efforts to liberate them. These are not the first of these dedicated people to be taken prisoner. And a few have been murdered. They are most courageous to continue their dangerous work in the democratization of Afghanistan."
"I'm glad we could help," Brannigan said. "In the meantime we are waiting for orders. I don't know if we're going to be relieved or continue to carry the load here."
"You'll be continuing to carry that load, Lieutenant," Latrelle said. "Right now SOCOM has no one to send in to take your place. And all the conventional forces in this theater are hard at working trying to find terrorist camps and cells hiding out in the wilderness. And, of course, the hunt for Osama Bin Laden continues." He turned to Aburrani. "By the way, I noticed some poppy fields when we flew in here. What is being. done about them?"
"They are scheduled to be destroyed," Aburrani said, covering up the truth about the opium industry. "We wait only for funds from the American government to pay the farmers. I fear they will not readily submit to losing their best cash crop without having money in hand to make up for the loss."
"I can't say that I blame them," Latrelle said. "These poor people have endured hardships for decades. We certainly don't wish to add to their suffering by making them wait for badly needed cash."
"That is most understanding of the American government," Aburrani said. He nodded to Brannigan. "Colonel Latrelle and I would like to visit the site of Durtami's old fortress. We wish to take photographs for an official report."
"Certainly," Brannigan said. "I assume it will be all right if we use the Afghan government van outside. Or would you prefer your helicopter?"
"The van would serve our purpose better," Latrelle said. "A close-up inspection of an OA is always advantageous."
"Certainly, sir," Brannigan said, thinking that only a staff weenie would think a quick cross-country drive would familiarize him with an active OA.
The four men got to their feet and went outside.
Chapter 11
THE KHAMAMI FIEFDOM
WARLORD Hassan Khamami was a muscular, handsome man with a heavy beard and lively green eyes that reflected his high intelligence. He was also a lusty warrior chief with three wives, and further enhanced his sex life with two concubines from the lowly Dharya Clan of the Pashtun people. He maintained these playmates in a but away from his family.
The warlord ruled his holdings from a sturdy wooden castle called Al-Saraya. Unlike his brother-in-law Ayyub Durtami, who allowed his people to live within the walls of his fortress, Khamami mandated that his followers keep their village outside his rustic palace grounds.
Many outsiders thought that the warlord had come to be the commander of his private army through heredity since his father was also a great leader of mujahideen. In truth, he gained control of the fighting force not through the peaceful legalities of his father's will, but by violently turning on two of his half-brothers who also had ambitions to control the armed band. 'Their sire had a total of four wives who had presented him with three sons and ten daughters. All the women in the old amir's household were proper Muslim women who had no ambitions toward acquiring leadership. The third wife, however, saw the advantages of having her two sons take over the fiefdom, and she urged them to contest Hassan's claim to the throne.
This set off a mini civil war that went on for three years before Hassan's superior skills in field command smashed the opposition. Both half-brothers were hanged in public executions held outside the castle walls. Their domineering mother was beheaded in front of the gallows even as her sons' corpses hung there. This was the traditional punishment of adulteresses, and Khamami jokingly remarked that this was her proper due since she loved power more than his father.
The macabre event was stark evidence to the rest of the people that their new leader was not to be trifled with. Khamami assembled the opposition's frightened followers and gave them a blanket pardon if they swore their faith to him in 'the name of Allah. These grateful fighters became some of his most loyal soldiers. When the dust settled, the warlord had a large mountain stronghold and close to two hundred armed men at his beck and call.
Within a year Khamami added to his holdings by conquering some minor warlords in the area. These men resented the intrusion into their domains, and did not submit meekly to Khamami's authority. Consequently, they were dispatched in secret assassinations that included shootings, ambushes and even a couple of poisonings. These deaths left their people confused and lost. It was only natural that they turned to the most powerful leader around for protection. None realized this was the very man who was responsible for the murder of their chiefs.
This doubled both Khamami's land holdings and his army. The one person to whom he showed mercy was Ayyub Durtami. Durtami, a low-grade chief, was saved because one of his sisters was Khamami's favorite wife. He let Durtami slip off to the south after securing an informal nonaggression pact with him. Durtami was smart enough not to try any treachery toward his brother-in-law, who had emerged all-powerful in that area of Afghanistan.
Under normal conditions, Khamami would have gone as far as any man could before he would eventually run into other more powerful warlords who would defeat him. Then it would be his turn to dangle from a gallows. Surprisingly, it was a political event involving a superpower that catapulted Hassan Khamami into becoming one of the most powerful leaders in Afghanistan. In fact, he almost became a king.
Soviet ambitions led to the destruction of the Afghan monarchy in 1973. Mohammed Daoud became prime minister with the help of local Communists, but instead of moving into the Soviet sphere, he adopted a neutral attitude toward both the East and West. He didn't last long under those conditions, and was assassinated in order to be replaced by a leader who was more cooperative with Moscow's desires. All this was instigated by Soviet KGB agents who were experts in meddling in the affairs of weak foreign nations. Nur Mohammed Taraki was the reds' fair-haired boy, and he was chosen by the Kremlin to take over Afghanistan in their name. He ran the nation along Communist atheistic lines.
Khamami had been one of those local leaders chosen by America's CIA to supply and support. He received funding and weaponry from the American intelligence organization as he fought viciously against the Russians. By the time the conflict came to an end, his personal army was twice as strong as it had been before the conflict. The warlord used this power to overcome a few additional weaker neighbors. For several months, however, it appeared that he might have bitten off more than he could chew. Vast territories and a large fighting force are terribly expensive to maintain. Since his people were overwhelmingly poverty-stricken farmers, Khamami didn't have much of a tax base to finance his ambitions.
Then he got into opium poppy cultivation.
This stroke of luck was almost accidental, when a smuggler who had been operating before the war came back to renew his association with the people he'd dealt with in the past. Unfortunately for him they were all gone. Fortunately for Hassan Khamami, he was in the right place at the right time to fill the vacuum. Deals were made with the smuggler, and a group of farm villages were recruited and organized to begin a big-time cultivation and production business. Now great amounts of money rolled in to fill the warlord's coffers. His personal army was stronger and better structured than ever due to these unexpected, substantial opium revenues.
Additionally, the intelligent and perceptive Khamami had learned much about strategy and tactics during the long fight against the Russians. He also accumulated large stocks of Soviet weapons, uniforms and equipment. But the most important commodity Khamami acquired was knowledge.
During the struggle against the Soviets, the warlord quickly realized that mass, disorganized attacks almost always ended in disaster, and he recognized the advantages of breaking his army down into subordinate units coordinated along a chain of command. He created squads, divided them among platoons; organized the platoons into companies; and the companies became part of battalions--all under his leadership. Khamami also developed tactical skills in such things as patrolling, fire support, ambushes, attack and defense. But most importantly, he learned to pick the right times to fight and how to safely break contact and withdraw when things went wrong.
Arms was another phase of warfare he took note of. Khamami gathered all the weapons given him by the CIA and combined them with the arms he'd looted from the Soviet Army. He even had no less than three Soviet Hind Mi24 troop-carrying helicopter gunships at his disposal, and the pilots to fly them.
Additionally, he acquired a spiritual leader to back up his activities. One day a hermit appeared at Al-Saraya after fifteen years of living and wandering in the mountains. This was Khatib the Oracle, who claimed he was the new prophet of Allah who had been sent to lead the faithful in a struggle to destroy all the infidels in the world. Khamami was aware that the old man was as crazy as a flea on a goat, but he recognized the oldster's potential usefulness. Khatib the Oracle had a way of mesmerizing the crowds who listened to him speak. The warlord told the pseudo-prophet that he would be welcome to remain in the fiefdom if he slanted his sermons to teach the audiences that Khamami was a warrior guided by Allah. That was fine with the elderly fellow, who recognized a good meal ticket. Thus he acquiesced wholeheartedly to the warlord's program. Consequently, the people obeyed Khamami's every command with a reverent adoration.
The last bit of resistance Khamami had to deal with was the Dharya Clan. These Pashtuns were a small group of dissidents who tried to set up their own poppy cultivation on lands controlled by the warlord. They paid a terrible price for the affront. After a vicious attack that decimated their numbers, the survivors were place into slavery, and held there with many of their young females put into enforced concubinage--the worst fate for Muslim women. According to Islam, they were as much if not more to blame for this shameful situation as the men who violated their bodies.
Because of this, they would never know freedom from the warlord or forgiveness from their male relatives.
.
THE REFUGEE CAMP
KHAMAMI FIEFDOM
22 AUGUST
AYYUB Durtami and Ahmet Kharani were off to the side of the convoy that by now had deteriorated into a miserable, milling mob. Although there was no shouting or struggling, the people who had fled the compound in the south were bunched together in an instinctively protective manner. The motors of the vehicles were now turned off while everyone waited nervously to find out what would happen next. They were tightly surrounded by an armed detachment of Warlord Hassan Khamami's mujahideen, who glared at them as if daring the refugees to try to disturb the peace and tranquility of the fiefdom.
Durtami and Kharani sat in the back of the Soviet sedan. Their bodyguards, who normally stayed close by, had wandered off, as if wishing to put a great deal of distance between themselves and their former chiefs. The former warlord and his lieutenant were plainly worried, and both had AK-47s within easy reach. If Khamami was going to kill them, the men he sent would pay dearly for the assassinations.
Kharani rolled the window down a bit to let some air into the old Soviet automobile. "Perhaps we are worrying over nothing," he murmured, to himself as much as to his companion.
Durtami shook his head. "I do not know what to think. We are defeated, Brother Ahmet. We show up here with naught but what we have in our vehicles. Even our fighting force is down to almost nothing."
"Surely we and our men have some value," Kharani said. "And is your sister not still the favorite of Warlord Khamami's wives?"
"I do not know," Durtami said miserably. "Perhaps he has gotten younger, prettier ones."
"But she gave him four sons," Kharani said. "Surely a man would honor such a wife for as long she lived."
"Maybe she no longer lives," Durtami said. "I have had no news from here in two or three years. She could have sickened and died."
"Allah help us!"
.
AL-SARAYA CASTLE
1400 HOURS LOCAL
N0 less than a squad of riflemen had gone to the refugee camp to fetch Ayyub Durtami and Ahmet Kharani for an audience with Warlord Hassan Khamami. The leader of the unit was brusque to the point of being rude and threatening. This behavior made the two even more apprehensive than they had originally been.
After being hurried from their vehicles and through the village to the gate of the castle, they were almost trembling with fear. By then they figured the best they could hope for was a quick and painless death. When the gate was opened, the castle guards took them in hand, escorting them into the interior of the two-story building. They stopped by a door in one of the inner hallways. The senior guard stepped inside and closed it. A moment later he appeared. "The Amir Warlord Khamami deigns to speak with you. Enter!"
Durtami and Kharani hurried inside the room, where the warlord sat on a throne-like teak chair flanked by a pair of guards. The two reluctant guests threw themselves down, touching their foreheads to the floor. It was now time for them to practice nanawatey, the act of total submission in the Pashtun culture.
Durtami, as the senior, spoke for them both, his voice quavering. "Amir! We appear before you humbled and defeated.
We beg your mercy and submit to your authority and power without hesitation or limits."
Kharani added, "Amir! It is written in the Koran that Allah loves those who show mercy to the believers."
"Don't tell me what is written in the Koran!" Khamami bellowed in fury. "I have Khatib the Oracle to advise me on religious matters."
"Of course, Amir!" Kharani acknowledged in
cold fear. "Forgive my rude audacity, I beg you!"
"And here you are, driven from your lands by Infidels!" Khamami said. "Both of you have disgraced Islam with your ineptness and cowardice. Why do you come to me instead of remaining to martyr yourselves against the enemy?"
Durtami had anticipated that line of questioning, and he quickly replied, "We have come to join your army, Amir! We wish to continue the fight under your command."
Khamami was secretly amused by their fear. It fed his ego to observe two people literally begging for him to spare their lives. "And why should I accept you into my army and my fiefdom?"
"I have come here with more than a hundred armed men, Amir," Durtami said. "I also have money from my treasury." "A pittance," Khamami scoffed.
"We have behaved badly and admit it with great shame, Amir," Kharani said. "We beg you for mercy."
"Mmm," Khamami said, acting as if he were deep in thought. More than two minutes passed before he said, "Very well! I have decided to take you under my rule if you swear allegiance to me."
"By the grace of Allah I swear a full allegiance to your authority, Amir," Durtami said. "I speak for my people and you may hold me responsible for their actions."
"I most certainly will do that," the warlord said. "However, until you have proven yourselves, you and your people will live beyond the village in the wilderness. I will give you no food, no water and no shelter. All these problems are for you to solve."
"Shukhria! " they said simultaneously in their gratitude. "You are dismissed!"
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